Abigail rubbed a towel over her damp hair, and another wrapped around her body. No foreign sounds cut through the silence to alert her that she was no longer alone. But she knew she wasn’t. She also knew who was behind her, watching.
“You are being creepy again,” she said without turning.
Lorenzo scoffed. “Says the woman with eyes in the back of her head.”
Smiling, Abigail finally turned and faced her husband. Her eyes roamed over him in appreciation. Lorenzo leaned against the bathroom door, shirtless. A pair of loose shorts hung from his hips, just low enough to give her a glimpse of the flame tattoo that covered his lower abdomen to his groin.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he said in a husky voice.
Abigail arched her brow, a little perplexed. “That’s new. Are you still upset
